


Risén Bones

by deight



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23198500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deight/pseuds/deight
Summary: Remember, to become stronger, you must nurture, destroy, succumb, love, resent, fall, andrise.





	1. Remembrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rewritten as of nov 2020
> 
> (unedited)

The first breath she took was one of fire and smoke. Smoldering and crackling, the small wooden house caved in from the inside, releasing a thump of black soot and an indescribable pain which welled within her. Perhaps she had screamed, dispensing all her fury, anger, and the resounding anguish that reverberated within her, like hot, hot, molten fluid erupting. Or maybe she had kept silent, only allowing her fat, boiling tears to express all her anguish. As if her own body had too gave up on her, she collapsed to the muddy soil, dropping the herbs she had been collecting. Head ringing, she held the earth to ground herself. The mud oozed between the gaps of her fingers, as she squeezed the moisture out of it. The water streaked around the mud in uneven places and oozed into the concave her body had sunken to form. The cooling sensation brought a memory back to her, told by her mother. Of an ancient war between all the magic that existed. Fire, earth, metal, water, and wood. Slaughtered and tortured, clans were divided and betrayed, order was upheaved, ripped apart by the relentless chaos which reigned across the Welder land. The soldiers and generals had begun to lose their humanity, too intoxicated by the bloodshed and scheming and the others who had given up any shred of hope for an end to this insanity, their innocence disintegrating as the war dragged on.

 _Perhaps this is what they felt_ , she thought to herself. She stared devastatingly into the mud, drops of fresh tears dropped from her face. She felt her legs going numb, but so was her mind, so perhaps this numbness should swallow her up just like the flames and let her body rot along with her dilapidated home. At least she would be able to join her lost ones, her parents. She would be together with them, even it meant killing herself. Blinking, she knew she had nothing to lose, after all, she already had lost everything she lived to care for. She knew she could do it, it was very simple. Lay down in the mud, face the sky, and do what she does best: calling upon rain. Invoke her power to keep gathering clouds, on and on, forming thick and dark clouds which grew high, high up in the sky. She would have to push her limits, breaking past what her body could handle. A great thundering storm would form too, if she pushed hard enough. Amidst the crackling of lightning bursting down like a whip to a horse, she would lay there, against the roaring wind, unmovingly still, until she felt bubbles forming beneath her skin. Water bubbles, they would burst and mingle with her blood, all her cavities would slowly fill with water, including her lungs. There, as she felt her body surrendering, no longer able to keep up with the amount of power she was asking for, her vessels would burst in diluted blood or she could have choke to oblivion before that happened.

She remembers holding her father's rough hands as a child, peering curiously at the small jags of ice which jutted out on the back of his palm. Unmeltable ice, they shone bright like gems even under the blazing sun. Once you pushed past your boundary, you could stop it, but the damage was irreversible. And if you chose to go beyond the boundary, it meant death. _Vaun_ , her mother called it, had different kinds of pain. Depending on what element you had used, fire could explode in your veins, metal poisoning your blood, earth choking you and dragging you to the ground or vines encroaching your heart. There were many possibilities, but the one she preferred what water did. _You would only feel your body ebb away_ , her mother had said, _like waves._

At that, a drop of water plopped down on her cheek, and streaked down like a makeshift tear. She forced her eyes open, and rain cascaded down in a soft shower.

She was reminded of the first lesson her mother had taught.

 _"Remember, to grow, you have to first learn how to nurture,"_ she said, tucking Aera's black hair behind her ear.

Like Aera had been instructed, she gazed around the field, of the crops needy of water. She bent, as if she as praying in a place of worship, clasped her tiny, grubby hands together and shut her eyes. The wind whispered past her, cold tendrils caressing her small face and she envisioned. Envisioned the fields around her, the corn crops hailed to her, their sagging leaves rustling with the cold air in anticipation. With the empty expanse of her mind, she knew her shoulders were tense, so with a deep breath, while deducing the direction of which the wind came from, she relaxed them, uncoiling them from the knot. _South, the clouds will gather from the south._

Surely enough, the white misty haze gathered. Flowing together, bunching up, the clouds grew in substantial amounts, thick and grey, Aera felt the definite surge of power within her, like a well filling up, it filled and filled until the brim, waiting to be released. And so she did, releasing the clouds from her control, droplets of water fell, then grew in volume until it was a mild drizzle. Her father, who frequented in a straw chair raised his hand, revealing his hand which had fragments of ice jutting out, with his palm facing upwards. He smiled softly, as if feeling rain for the first time. A simple, docile expression, but it had hurt her heart to see him like that, in ways she could not explain. Her mother glanced at me then him. Aera wasn't sure if her mother was crying or it was a trick of the rain.

In present moment, her heart wrenched at the memories as she choked a sob. _I don't know if I can live on, mother. I don't think I can._ She knew nothing of the world outside the woods surrounding the hut. Only stories of distant war and civilizations. She had begged to go to the market outside the woods after seeing trails of smoke in the sky, had even peered into the bustling market, watching the children kick rotten apples and men shouting boisterously and laughing drunkenly around an open fire, all the while she stood deep in the woods, above a fallen tree. Her mother only patted her head, as if she didn't hear her, and her father merely gazed into the trees, as if she wasn't there at all. Yet despite their indifference, she trusted them. Convincing herself that everyone else were monsters besides her parents, that the outside world was too scary for her alone. Maybe she had carried this childhood fear for the rest of her years growing up, that it now paralyzed her to even think of stepping foot outside the woods.

After her lesson, after the rain had dwindled and clouds part to let the afternoon sun through, the crops were standing much straighter, much turgid. The leaves no longer sagged but perked in earnest. Her mother stroked Aera's wet hair, "Your father is very proud, even if he does not seem like it."

That kept her going strong. Later that night, as she sat on her father's lap, poking the ice in his hands, she listened to her mother's stories. _It's cold to the touch_. Surprised, she stared at each individual pieces, as if she could see the serpent under the magical lake her mother was speaking about.

The tale was of a serpent and a young prince. The serpent had been thrown out of the palace grounds many times after being seen around the prince. It was only not killed because of the prince's earnest pleading to his parents. He did not wish to see any creature harmed, when it did not harm him. Yet the serpent was relentless, squeezing in cracks and crevices just to get to the prince as if pulled to the gravitational power the prince had, it was unable to pull itself away from him. Seeing as the snake really did not inflict any harm on him, only overprotective over him against anyone, the king and queen allowed the serpent to be by the prince, and deemed it as protection from the stars themselves. They grew together and even as the prince had ascended to the throne as the new king, the serpent was still there, coiling its immensely large body around the carved throne. Its scales, said to be green in one light and blue in the next, gave the king a domineering power over his subjects and enemies. The king was loved by his own right. Pious, clever and righteous, his subjects only loved him more as they awed the beastly guardian by his side, and his enemies were envied the power he held, scorning him for being regarded higher than other rulers. Throughout the king's reign, the serpent had slain many who had tried to succumb it or the king himself, as if saying, _"Do not worry my king, I will protect you from any harm."_. A swipe of its tail sent a traitor crashing into the wall, denting it, his bones had been crushed in the impact. A lunge meant that a snake was going to sink its venomous teeth in your neck, but the serpent had grown past sinking teeth into neck, it had swallowed all of the king's enemies whole. No one was a match for it. But alas, too much harm can even overwhelm the towering serpent itself. A clever ploy. A wild celebration, people spilling into palace grounds, too many people, too many threats, the serpent's attention was misdirected and that was all it took.

One fell swoop, and the serpent had caught the assassin, its fangs crushed the body and threw it aside as if it was rotten meat, but it was too late. Blood gurgled out of the king's throat, his body sagging against the bloody throne. Hissing violently, it tightened its coiling body around the silent throne, glaring at the palace floor with its slitted eyes full of fury and rage. In response, flames alighted the throne room, setting everything ablaze. People tried to rush out, only to be stopped by the locked doors. Screaming and sobbing, they cowered by the door, too afraid to approach the serpent or the soldiers who had unsheathe their sword, circling around the serpent. _You come to my king in celebration, assassinated him and dare to murder his people_ , it hissed. Several people had shouted in desperation for the serpent to save them.

For that the serpent had answered, _I need not save you, for there is nothing I care for in this room._

With another hiss, the palace exploded in water. From a magical source, invoked by the mystical serpent, the palace grounds had inundated, and the floods destroyed all the surrounding villages, including the people in them. An immensely large lake was formed, in it drowned the king's subjects, enemies and the king himself. Few survived but fewer remembers. A shrine was built in honor of the king, but not the serpent, scorned for its apathetic cruelty. Over time, nobody remembers the serpent, only the pious king, killed unfairly.

 _"How do you know then?"_ Aera asks her mother dubiously as she snuggled into her father's chest, breathing in his woody scent, close to sleep.

Her mother lit a candle that had went out, as no fire hearth was supposed to be near my father for he was afraid of it. The flame illuminated her face, accentuating her dark lashes and darker eyes, _"Water holds memory. Remember that Aera. Listen to the thousands of millenniums they have gone through."_

She sleeps soundly, lulled by the hands of her father stroking her hair, not in affection as he looked deeper in her mother's eyes, in a trance, locked in a distant memory neither of us can reach.

A slight crack of thunder brought her back to reality. Her eyes felt raw and sticky with dried tears but she had to do one more thing before confirming her suspicion. With the little energy she has left, she gets into a worship position again and undoes herself. Past all her anguish, there was only a gaping hole in her heart, aching to be filled. She knew for a fact that this was a ploy. Fire was not something my family like very much, she speaks to the water surrounding her, show me. Show me who did this.

Footsteps, horses padding on the mud, the images come together in stop motion. Men wearing black and red uniforms, they rushed in the little hut. Shuffle of feet and muffled cries, they swiftly came out, two swords tainted with blood, and lit the hut on fire with torches.

Aera no longer has any tears to shed, but what she was shown inflicted a deeper pain than anything else. She could only close her eyes, unable to see anymore. Breathing intensely, the fury grew within her. The rain earlier had seized the fire, drenching the flames. She rose to her feet, her vision blurry, her clothes dripping with water and mud. Taken by an inexplicable rage, she walked towards the burned hut and probed the wet ashes until she had found what she was looking for. A silver dagger with a teardrop design engraved in the middle of the hilt. Hidden in a buried box beneath the floor, it had belonged to her grandmother. As she held it, she took in the aftermath. Half of the roof have caved in, revealing the murky sky. The walls was torn down and scorched. The interior was blackened and burned to the ground, Aera could not tell what was what, but as she inched to the back of the hut, there was a plank of a wall which stood, unscorched, unburnt. Retaining the dull color of spruce wood, it bore the mark of an eye. Carved out by a knife, the unruly eye had a flame as the pupil.

_Someone is behind this._

The surging anger fueled her. She gripped the dagger harder, knuckles turning white. Thoughts of ending her own life to join her parents seemed far away. Staking the ground with poles of her parents empty graves, for she had never found amongst the charred wood, Aera made a promise of vengeance. She will destruct everything in her path to avenge whoever tore away the only solace from her. She will never get to see her father's distant gazes. Nor will she be able to listen to the tales her mother spoke of her grandparents. _Legendary warriors, they were called. Perhaps they had died when the war had ended_ , her mother would say, as she smiled sadly downwards. Never will she see her parents again. That thought alone flared her rage, fanning it in every direction.

The first breath Aera had taken was one of fire and anguish, carving out a task of vengeance. The air of ash flowed in her blood like a continuous stream of pain, remembrance of her fury to avenge her parents. As if awoken, her senses were sharper, the dripping of the water seemed crisper than it was before. The dagger gleaned in the light, revitalized. The crops, untouched, blew with the wind, lop-siding them the side. The whistles of the damp wind urged her into the woods, to the pitter-patter of a horse.

_There is a rider nearby, young one._


	2. A Baited Dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a gift <3
> 
> (unedited)

Aera awakes on a rattling wagon, no longer did the spruce trees overcloud her vision overhead, only the beating sun greeted her in earnest, pinching her skin with heat. She felt for her silver dagger, her only family heirloom and a wave of dread washed over her. Wizened, she looked for it in panic, in the crates next to her, around the wagon, uncaring that it was a stranger's, _she could not lose it._ Noticing her presence, the wagon stopped moving.

"Looking for this?" Her face snapped upwards, eyes going to slits at her own dagger being dangled in front of her like bait. She snatched it before it was taken back and hugged it tightly against her chest protectively.

The bearded man merely chuckled in response, "You should think twice before lunging at me. Or creeping up on me, I saw you the moment you entered the woods. I would have killed you."

Flinching at the harshness of his words, Aera realised a stinging pain from her shoulder. Lifting her sleeve, she saw a raw, ugly bruise forming. She remembered now. She had stalked the man in the forest, waiting to pounce on him at any opportunity. Her rage drowned all reason that she never learned how to wield a sword and never killed someone. She had did it anyways, and this was the price she paid. Foolish.

"But you did not,' the man looked middle surprised at her voice, small as a stray kitten, "Why?"

All amusement was gone from his eyes, replaced with a sympathetic face, "You were covered in soot, and there was a burning house upfront... I'm sorry for what happened." Not wanting to show any more weakness, only to nurse the new pain which he had welled up within her, she sat at the corner in silence. The man noticed her unwillingness to talk and waggled the bridle to start the horse into a brisk walk, pulling the wagon along. Aera only bored holes at the passing grasslands, void of any civilization, only a gravel road, which leads to one.

The mutual silence continued on for a few days. Aera was completely on guard against him, the first outside person she had met in her life, and he was unsure of what to make of the child. He only knew that passing her food, a bowl of steaming stew, or bread and cheese for breakfast, would elicit a response from her. He noticed how her entire body tenses up when in a settlement, or any crowded places, especially at anyone wearing a sword at their waist. As if they were threats, she stuck by his leg until they were done eating or buying things in the market. One day, whilst eating a bowl of thick porridge, he heard her make a small, stifling laugh. With wide eyes, he searched for the source, only to find a few boys fighting childishly with makeshift swords. After being chased by a guard, her eyes lingered at the dropped wooden sword for a few moments before returning to eat her porridge.

"Do you want to learn?", she looked up with puzzled eyes, raising one of her eyebrows, "The sword. Do you want to learn the sword?", he coughed out awkwardly, unsure if she would want that at all.

"Yes."

It was only for a few months later, after buying her a real sword, twice the length of her dagger, did he realize that she hadn't looked at those men with swords with unease, but rather with awe. And it took him many years later to realize that her awe had grown to hunger.

* * *

Her raven hair, once cut short to her chin to avoid any hindrances during trainings, now was past her shoulder blades, blowing slightly with the wind. There Aera stood, hidden in the shadows of a bell tower, toiling for midday. Her almond eyes scanned the crowds of bustling people below her. Reise was a city of abundance. Vendors sold everything and anything, all sourced from the nearby lakes, rivers, or caverns which surrounded it. Mekyns were hard workers, and brilliant even with the mildest cultivation of their power. Abilities to create sturdy objects: a steel bucket to withstand the most blistering lavas, swords forged with the highest quality of cold iron, the once small settlement of Reise grew exponentially after the war. Home to thousands, many walkers choose to reside her, regardless of their cultivation and element, it was a city full of opportunities.

Amongst the commons, buying with the currency of infused coins, a mother was wringing her child's arm to force him home. Angrily, she tightly held her basket of bread and shiny red apples, all freshly bought from the market. The child thrashed around, yelling for he was snatched from his friends, crying as he felt his mother gripped his arm harder. She hissed in his ear in which his eyes widened in response and went deathly quiet. His friends had laughed in response, mocked him for being a crybaby. Wide smiles, grinning from tooth to tooth, they picked up their makeshift swords and had begun reenacting a common folk tale of the war. In their own innocent version, there had been no Vaun, no end, only senseless fighting with pretend powers, for they had none. The one-eyed butcher bellowed at the children who had been scared the commons away with their child brawls. Still they paid him no mind, only continuing on to the next arc: the execution of the last known Erde king. The larger, lean boy with a perfect stance, similar to a knight, recited the exact words spoken before he had been slain.

_"Actum est de te, periisti."_

Nearby, a guard had stalked closer to get a glimpse, as if compelled to watch. His footsteps rang with a slight jangle of his metallic armor, tinting slightly cerulean under the sun, it was the color of the Mekyn General. Some commons followed suit, as if acknowledging the power to entice even a general from his duties. The knight-like child swung his pretend sword in a graceful manner, his eyes solemn, void of any of the childlike humor he had possessed before and gave a small tap on the nape of the neck of the scrawny boy below, signaling the collapse of the Erydean kingdom, and the end of the tale. There was a transient moment of hushed silence in the market space, before the fishmonger, enraged, roared in a savage manner, waving his cleaver in an attempt to chase them away again. He did not have to use the cleaver, for they ran not in fear, but in retched disgust at the putrid scent of sticky fish blood coating his tunic and his singular eye socket which had been sewn shut. In brazen screams they ran wildly from him, the knightly child now resuscitated with vigor, had accidentally bumped into the general. Gaping at what he had done, he went to his knees to apologize, but the general only chuckled as he helped the child up with a powerful clap to the back to send him off back to his gawking group of friends. An icy gaze watched the children sprint off as they shouted, forgetting the general, only deeming the butcher as the Stinking Butcher and scheming for his downfall and death.

Now, the paces of the commons below quickened. It was a subtle change, but Aera felt it in her bones, a developed instinct. They could smell the salt in the air, mingling with the carcasses of meat and fresh fruits: rain was brewing. Women were wrapping their cloaks tighter against themselves, shielding their baskets and purses. Men strolled faster, their boots beating on the hard ground, to their home, work, or duty. Overhead, the dark clouds donned a blanket of tension upon the market square. The general, ignored by the commons, a path no longer cleared for him as they scrambled for indoors, held his hand cautiously on his waist, feeling for velvet pouch which Aera knew, held an important ring of keys.

Across her, if she hadn't noticed the pair of eyes which had looked on coldly to those children, she wouldn't have noticed him watching her as well. In another pocket of darkness, he perched, the very silhouette of his body brought back memories Aera would very much like to forget. Yet as he cocked his head to one side, as if questioning her, she felt the same shiver running across her spine as she did when she met him for the first time. But she was no longer a knight, so she gave a slight bend to her neck, answering him.

_Yes, this is my doing._

Satisfied with her answer, he gave a lopsided smile though his eyes told the opposite. Cold grey slates as orbs, he fell forward from the tower, the salty wind pushing his inky hair backwards and vanished in the crowds of people. Pulling the hood of her cloak up, she relaxed her shoulders and exhaled quietly. As if a spring that was pushed down had sprung up, she released her hold over the thick clouds. When she jumped, landing on the now wet and slippery ground, the rain had fell with her.

No longer in the darkness the tower provided her, she still stayed hidden amongst people. Honed by knights but twisted by the streets itself. Reise was a city full of opportunities, but one misstep, one mistake, would send her to the hellish gallows. Her fingers worked fast, picking things in a blur. Coins, apples, pouches. She flitted across one shadow to the next, never fully revealing herself to anyone, she was in her own element. Giddy that she had acquired the prize of the day, she held it up secretly within her coat to take a closer look. A puzzled look casted before realization hit like cold splashing water. The velvet pouch was empty. Within her peripheral vision, she saw the familiar inky mop of hair flitting away, from one shadow to the next. She could imagine the same smile, the same grey eyes which would taunt her, dangling the set of keys over her. A bait and his dog.

Anger overtook her, but reason held the reigns. If he had got to the general before her, there was no reason for him not to be on high alert. Especially when she had been a heartbeat late, the general would have noticed her. Just as she suspected, the general lunged at her from behind, but caught nothing for she twisted her body and started sprinting away. Fuming, he threw his hand outwards, ductile wires extended straight out from a nearby wall of iron, determination burned in his eyes. _Serpent, I will capture you._ She fell as one of the wire snared her leg, apples and coins rolled out of her cloak. It coiled and dug into the flesh, but before it could drag her back, she slashed the link with a dagger. As she ran deeper in an alley, he chased her, commanding for the wires to follow along. uncaring for the shouts which reverberated behind him. The stone floor was more slippery than usual, as if a mammoth snail had strolled past. The wetness of it all threw him off, his steeled boots were unable to keep a grip. That moment of delay was all she needed, she slipped into the shadows of the buildings once more.

Hissing, she slid to the ground, adrenaline had run its course. The pain rose like prickling needles as each raindrop hit the wound, the flesh was in a jagged mess. If it had tightened its coil any further, she would probably lose her leg. With a twist of her hand, she wrung the raindrops together and washed the excess blood away with the water she procured from the rain. Her head was dizzy, and her blood was pounding, but she bit the insides of her cheek to stop her tumbling into oblivion. Focusing on the physicality of it all, she tore her cloak to wrap around her weeping wound.

With her attention occupied, she could not sense the sounds of heavy, dragging footsteps across the floor. Of beach waves rolling up the sand at an oblique angle, and being dragged back into the turbulent seas. As it inched closer, it shuffled faster, the waves breaking at the shore in rapid succession. This, disrupted her action of finishing the knot, as she immediately tucked her legs below her body. Despite her body wincing at the quick movements, she still adopted an offensive stance with her silver dagger, ready to pounce at whoever it was.

Instantly responding, his jade eyes widened in fright and raises his hands over his head, as if protecting himself.

Aera's eyes went to slits at the mounds of earth which covered his feet, like ants racing up an ant mound only to be knocked down, they reached his ankles, "Who are you?" her voice came out raspy.

Still cowering behind his arms, he pauses for a few moments to gather his breath, and peeks at her wound through his crossed arms, "You're.. hurt."

"It doesn't matter, _who are you_?" she hissed out every syllable of the question, patience growing thin.

As if he didn't hear her, he continues to frown at her injured leg, his arms completely lowered. Before she could ask any further, there was a sound of clanging metal clashing together in the alley behind, then a thunderous crash. Cursing, she knew they were going to relentless this time, combing through every crack and crevice of the city to find her. Despite her muddled blood tracks, it still marked her presence. She had to run now. Grimacing at the pain as she got up, her mind raced to find a suitable hiding spot.

"Follow me," he approached her but Aera stared indignantly, stopping in his tracks. "I was sent by Ophus," at that sound of that name, she stared at him to discern his true intention, before reluctantly allowing him to wrap a warm arm around her waist for support but she made sure to glint the dagger's light upon him, her hand beneath the cloak.

They hurriedly shuffled through the alley, turning corners, only the sound of waves rolling across the beach and the light taps of the falling, fading shower, before he stops in his track in front of a brick wall. An outdated building, signifying that they were past the market square, and was now on the outskirts of the city. He stared at the single slab of wall, his teeth clenching with every echo of footsteps behind them.

"What are you doing?" she was furious now, _don't tell me I followed an utter fool_ , "What are we--,"

At once he lunged. Pulling her against her will, they stumbled through the brick wall which quickly closed back up after they've gone through, concealing them from the stepping hawks. The passage was dark except for a small candle on a wooden table, illuminating their silhouettes, which grew tall in the tiny room.

"That's not Ophus," Aera clenched her words, as she glared viciously at the green eyed boy.

His eyes widened in response, stricken with fear, "I don't.. I don't know who he is either," he whispered.

Propped against the table, drops of water hung at the end of his inky hair which grew just touching his eyebrows, making his eyes more deep set than it already is, his knife worked on a tangerine in long, languid strokes, the skin coming off as one line. Next to him, a ring of keys laid. Aera felt a deep resentment as she dug her nails into the arms of the green eyed boy holding her up, anger simmering within her at her incapability to sink his or her dagger into him.

"I did not steal the keys, Aera," he nonchalantly said with his attention still at peeling.

"I saw you."

"Who else did you see?" he raised his eyebrow at her, as the spiraling peel dropped softly on the granulated ground.

Her head was heavy with replaying the scene over and over. She turned it over, a jump, a pouch, a mop of black hair wetted by the rain, a _child_. A child bumping into the general first, with the same pair of sly slated eyes. _Oh, she should have known_. She closed her eyes in silence, before opening them after two consecutive breaths, "Archeleus."

"I'm surprised you still remember my dear brother," he hummed, placing a slice of tangerine in his mouth with his blade.

She bit her lip from saying something she will regret, but logic has been thrown out of the reigns by the thrashing anger, hot and scalding, "I am surprised that you still have the audacity to do this. Hiring a child, your dear brother nonetheless."

He seemed unfazed, as he tossed something to the green eyed boy. A cylindrical object, "Help her, Eli."

Aera gave him a questioning look, but Eli was as stupefied as she was, he floundered with the object, and released a huff of relief when he had caught it. A drum of salve. "How do you know me?"

He shrugged, "Go to Ophus. Aera, I forbade you from searching for them."

"I am no longer a knight," she gritted out.

"As a subject," his voice grew stern, "I forbid you again. Understood?" he cocked his eyebrow at her.

She balled her fists, tears stinging her eyes, she knew he would not listen to whatever she said, "Yes," she said softly.

Aera would like to think that for a fleeting half second, his eyes gingerly gazed her, but he expertly covered it up, leaving her to wonder if it was a trick of her memory. He swallowed the last slice, licking his fingers as he strode past her, "On a side note, perhaps you should not use the same shadows I showed you," towards the brick entrance, he vanishes to the other side, with his tangerine coated lips and the set of keys which was supposed to be _hers_.


End file.
